


Soft Side

by jamesboobchanan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:58:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7701253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesboobchanan/pseuds/jamesboobchanan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky X Reader (ft. the Avengers) in which the reader is like a vulgar, filthy, modern Robin Hood who only wants what’s best for her town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for language  
> [not edited]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [not edited]  
> [H/C] = hair color  
> [S/T] = skin tone  
> [E/C]

“‘It’ll be fun’, they said, ‘something new,’ they said. Fucken liars, the lot of ‘em!” The [H/C] haired woman grumbles as she army crawls through the vents. Hissing when the sleeve of her shirt gets caught on a screw, she stops with a thud. Her eyes widen as she freezes, waiting for any indication she was heard and is possibly caught. When no sounds come she relaxes and begins tugging at her sleeve. It won’t come free and she begins to panic just a bit, pulling harder. Her shirt comes free with a loud rip, followed by the thud of her elbow hitting the vent wall.

She should’ve known. Oh lord, she should’ve known. Breaking into the famous Avenger’s Facility was a bad idea from the start. And now she’s stuck in the vents, listening as more and more voices gather beneath her, wondering what the ruckus is about.

She’s frozen, unsure what to do. She knows that if she moves they’ll be able to follow her, no matter how silently she moves, sound carries through the vents. If she doesn’t move, on the other hand, they’ll eventually figure out its someone in the ventilation system making noise. Either way, she’s screwed.

Fuck.

Adjusting herself, she reaches for a CO2 laser that’s attached to her belt. It’s old, almost Cold War age old, but it gets her job done. She hesitantly flicks the cap off, her fingers hovering over the power switch. It’s a mental battle, decided between giving herself up or trying to escape. She decides she might as well give up. For now.

She flicks the switch and a red laser buzzes to life, reminding her of a light saber. With a snicker, she stabs the red hot end through the thin metal of the vent floor and carves away, listening as the voices become alarmed, yelling for weapons and a 911 call to Guy Fieri or something.

Finally, the weight of the [S/T] woman breaks through the vent and she goes crashing to the floor with a pained, “Shit!” The dust settles and the woman shifts, fighting the high pitched whine wanting to escape.

“Who the hell are you?” One man asks while another orders someone to prep an interrogation room. She groans, reaching a hand to probe at the tender flesh on the back of her head, barely managing to mumble something unintelligible before she passes out.

Later

The woman groans, her head rolling, as she comes to. Bright lights filter through her eyelids as she opens her eyes, blinking away grogginess. She shifts, hearing chains clink. There are shackles on her wrists and ankles, all connected by a chain that is attached to the wall behind her. Upon realizing someone was sitting across from her, she smirks. “That was pretty rough, bub. You into BDSM or something?” She snickers, sitting up in the metal chair and brushing off her shirt. “Not sure yet if you’re a dom, or a really aggressive sub.” She mutters, resting her elbows on the hard table and placing her chin on her interlocked fingers. She gazes at the man, taking in his reaction. The man across from her blushes, averting his gaze.

“I think maybe we should have someone else talk with you,” he replies, obviously flustered.

“Aw, don’t go baby, we haven’t even got to the fun part,” the woman purrs, keeping her eyes on the blonde man as he stands and heads to the door. “Wait!” She calls as a last ditch effort, and the man turns to look at her over his shoulder. She smirks and ducks her head to look at him through her lashes innocently, “Who’s gonna punish me? I’ve been real naughty.” She drops her voice seductively on the last words, reveling in the way her captor’s blue eyes widen as he rushes from the room.

When Steve enters the observation room he sees Clint and Natasha cackling and slapping each other with joy, Tony chuckling behind his glass of scotch, Sam and Bucky on their asses crying, Wanda smiling widely, and Vision staring on in mild confusion. It’s obvious they had the intercom on and heard everything. Steve frowns, shooting them all a glare as he sits and waits for them to calm down, watching the intruder look around the room. Then her mouth starts moving and Steve turns on the intercom so they can hear her again, thinking she was talking to them. The Avengers quiet, listening as she hums.

She’s singing some quiet, eerie song in a foreign language (probably the country she hails from, based on the slight accent she sports) for some time before stopping. “You dipshits gonna send in someone who doesn’t turn into a blushing daffodil when presented with a sexual joke?” And then she turns, staring directly into Bucky’s eyes before she says, “Like them?”

She can only hope that she’s actually staring at someone through the double sided mirror, because if she isn’t then this is gonna get awkward. She counts to ten before turning away and looking straight ahead, resuming her town’s anthem.

Moments later a loud buzz is heard, cutting her song off, then the door swings open and in steps a man. He’s tall, broad shouldered, with dark hair and gray eyes. Definitely muscular. Also attractive. He approaches the table and sits in the chair across from her. A long ass silence ensues as the two stare each other down, trying to unnerve the other. Then the man breaks it.

“My name is Bucky, you will call me Sergeant Barnes.” He says, shifting to place his forearms on the table, flashing her his metal prosthetic.

“Ooh, kinky. You can be Sergeant Barnes if I’m Doctor Sexy.” She winks, sending him a smirk. “Doctor Sexy, M.D.” She reiterates, reaching her hand out to shake. Bucky takes it the wrong way, assuming it’s an attack and before anyone can blink they’re across the room, his hand on her throat.

“Don’t test me,” Bucky snarls, getting his face close to hers in an attempt threaten her. Much to his surprise she just pressed her lips to his cheek, gently sliding them across his cheekbone before taking his ear into her mouth.

“Choke me harder, daddy.” She purrs before biting down on his earlobe, hard. Bucky releases her, stumbling back with an exclamation as she laughs loudly. “What? Not man enough?”

“Fuck, okay. Look, bitch, just tell me why you were stealing a credit card?”

Her face drops to a stoic stare as she sits down in the chair. “Because, why not?” She glares, watching the man pace. “Look, I just wanted the card, okay? I didn’t get it, so I haven’t stolen anything and since this is a public building and its business hours, I haven’t illegally entered. Just let me go.“

Bucky pauses and says, “Why should I? Why enter the private section of the Avenger’s Facility just to steal one of Tony’s cards?” He sits at the table and watches as many emotions flicker across the woman’s face. She’s very attractive, with [E/C] eyes, [S/T] skin, red lips, and obviously a sense of humor, albeit a dirty one. If she hadn’t just been crawling through the vents with Tony’s black American Express card, he’d consider asking her out.

The woman sighs, before rolling her eyes up and muttering in her home language. “Look, jackass, if you let me go, I’ll tell you why. But until I’m sure I’m free to go, I can’t say. So…” she holds arms up, jangling the chains.

Bucky sighs, walking over and unlocking the cuffs. “Now, care to share?” He drops the key on the ground and steps back, watching the woman kick the chains away. She slowly looks at the double sided mirror before looking at Bucky.

“Yes.”


	2. The Villiage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [not edited]  
> [Y/F/N] = your full name  
> [H/C] = hair color

She stares down at her mug before looking up. A team of superheroes states back, practically begging to offer her help-Stark’s fault, he felt bad for the girl, she reminded him of someone he once knew-and yet she didn’t think they could help.

Taking a deep breath and squeezing her eyes shut she allows herself to trust America’s favorite heroes. Her eyes open and she dives in, revealing nearly everything about her town. “My name is [Y/F/N], and I come from a small town in Liechtenstein. We’re practically off the map, have been for many years. Ever since the bomb hit and the reactor ruptured in 1992, the forest around us hasn’t been the same. Plants and animals are mutated beyond being edible, and our water sources are tainted by radiation. We are no longer considered a city, legally, so all import has been stopped. The population has dwindled severely, with only a sixth of us left. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been trading and selling at the nearest towns, and purchasing food and water. I would walk nearly one hundred miles a day, just to feed the others. Money has gotten tighter, and I’ve ventured out of country to get it. When I heard of Mister Stark’s fortune while in a market in France, I wasn’t able to resist.” She clears her throat and glances at Tony before taking a sip of the tea he gave her.

“That’s… touching,” Clint mutters uncertainly.

Vision humms, “Yes, I just read about the accident. Tell, me, what mutations have occurred? This is dreadfully fascinating.” Wanda elbows him, hissing his name.

“Uh, a lot. Look, story time is over so I think I’ll be leaving. Thanks for the imported tea. Tasted like ass,” [Y/N] says, placing the mug on the table and standing. She looks around before heading the elevator.

“Wait. Just wait.” Tony says, shuffling around for his phone.[Y/N] turns to watch him type something on his phone. It beeps and he tucks it back into his pocket. Got any coordinates to the town? Follow me,“ he says as he rushed by, leading his teammates and their guest down the hall to the hangar.

“No, there are no more airports. Closest city is Triesenburg. You can only get there by foot or a four-by-four vehicle. Why the fuck is this important?” The [H/C] haired woman asks, running to keep up with the billionaire’s pace.

“I just ordered a lifetime supply of the most expensive water bottles, as well as canned goods that won’t go bad. We’re taking you and your carry-on home.” Tony swipes his keycard and the hangar doors open to reveal large cargo crates being loaded onto a large jet.

“Uh, thanks? Why the shit would you do that? What the fuck made you see me as charity?” [Y/N)]demands, turning Tony toward her and forcing him to stop. Steve grabs her throat and backs her into Bucky who wraps his arms around her securely. “Okay, cockheads, get your bloody hands off of me. Goddamn, I was just making him look at me.” The woman huffs in reply, and Steve backs off guiltily.

“Sorry ma'am.”

Bucky remains holding her in his grip and she scowls. “Look, asswipe, I’m fucking done with the jokes now. Unless you actually wanna tie me down and fuck me, get your meaty paws off of me,” [Y/N] growls, elbowing Bucky in the gut and spinning out of his grasp. “I guess your dominant, then?” She brushes her shirt off and turns to Tony. “Why are you doing this? Why help such a small town in this big world?”

“Because I used to destroy small towns and get paid for it. Now I’m trying to erase that part of history, so why not? We have a flight to catch.” Tony gestures to the jet’s door awaiting them to embark. [Y/N] and Bucky send each other one last sexual-tension-filled glare before falling in line to board the plane.

If anyone were to mention it, the stubborn woman would deny that her leg is bouncing and her nose is twitching and her eyes and roaming around randomly and her hands continuously card themselves through her [H/C] hair. [Y/N] is nervous as fuck, as she gives brief directions on how to get to her town. At this point, it’s just a few miles along a bumpy dirt road before they’re there.

As several decrepit brick buildings come into view [Y/N] orders the driver to brake, halting the fleet of vans. She climbs out the door and walks down the broken road, waving for everyone to stay at the vans. She’s barely made it five steps in the direction of an old house before he door swings open and two children run out.

[Y/N] smiles widely, greeting her Godchildren as they swarm her. “Luna, Madu!” She kneels, hugging the twin girls to her chest and lifting them up to balance on her hips.

Two adults emerge from the old house, a woman and a man, the parents of the children. “[Y/N]! Liebling! Bringst du Essen?” The mother asks, kissing [Y/N] on the cheek and taking Luna from her. The father copies her, talking Madu.

::Darling! Did you bring food?::

“Roma, Ardiano. Natürlich,” the woman greets before turning to the kids who now stand on the ground the right of their mother. “Warum nicht helfen Sie Mädchen, dein Vater und schnappe ich mir etwas Nahrung und Wasser?” She holds her hands out, leading them away with Ardiano following.

::Of course. Why dont you girls help your father and I grab some food and water?::

[Y/N] brings the three of them to the first van. Bucky climbs out and slides open the back hatch, allowing the family to see the stacks of packages of bottled water. “Thanks, Barnes. Schnapp dir eine Packung oder zwei und ins Haus zu bringen.” She says to her townsfolk before looking at Bucky, “Mind helping?” Bucky shakes his head and grabs three packs, following the two girls helping to carry one, and Ardiano carrying two.

::Grab a pack or two and bring it to the house.::

[Y/N] grabs a pack herself and turns to see Steve and the others carrying boxes of canned food. She smiles widely and genuinely, tears welling up in her eyes. It’s been so long since anyone in her town has had plenty of safe food and water.

When they finished bringing a fair portion of the resources into Ardiano and Roma Jakob’s home, they move on to the neighbors. The Avengers watch as every single resident of the town treats [Y/N] like royalty, greeting her with hugs and kisses, then tearing up when they see how much they’re being given, blessing her and the team. Many Avengers are even taking these moments as a vacation, a reprieve. When was the last time they helped anyone because they wanted to? Without the press there or interviews?

Bucky’s thoughts are on a slightly different path. Of course, he’s dwelling on similar thoughts, but his conscience is filled with the image of [Y/N]. Her smile, her hair, the way her cheeks lift to her eyes and her nose scrunched up; he thinks of it all. The might Winter Soldier isn’t quite sure why, though. It was a mere few hours before that she was caught stealing and made crude jokes that annoyed his 1940s gentleman side. Something changed, he guesses.

“That’s all,” [Y/N] says after hugging the final family goodbye. “No one else lives in the town.”

Tony unwraps some gum as he walks over to the woman and offers it to her. She shakes her head no. “What about you? Do you have a husband and some kiddos running around? Why don’t we get them some food?”

[Y/N] scoffs, “No. I don’t. My house is over there.” She turns, pointing to possibly the most decrepit shack of a house.

Tony mumbles something about cows and pigs as the team follows [Y/N] to her ‘house.’ She swings the molded door open to reveal a single, threadbare bed next to a cracked sink and broken toilet. A chest sits in the corner and several weapons are hanging on the farthest wall.

“Home sweet home,”[Y/N] mutters, turning to look at the Avengers. They all share pitiful looks. “Look, you sons of bitches, I don’t want your pity, okay?” She snaps, “Just don’t. You guys should leave.”

The teams sighs collectively before turning and walking away, one by one, except Bucky. He stays. “Hey, uh…” Bucky pauses, shifting his weight and rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Spit it out,” [Y/N] says, jutting one hip out and placing her hand on it.

“Uh…” Bucky takes a deep breath, building his confidence up, “I might not be into BDSM, but I’d let you tie me down for dinner.” His proposal is more of a question. [Y/N] busts out laughing, throwing her head back and spinning around with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, my fuck!” She snorts, choking on her laugh, “Priceless! Jesus Christ!” She laughs for several more minutes while Bucky stands there blushing and fiddling with a strand of hair. Once her laughter has died down she says, “Okay, how about we just get dinner… Without tying you down.” She smiles brightly as Bucky exhales, grinning at her.

“Sounds good.”

“Hey lovers,” Tony interrupts, peeking through the doorway. “Mind if we talk to you, Robin Hood?” [Y/N] sighs, rolling her eyes at the nickname and steps past Bucky, sending him a wink. The entire team stands outside, waiting.

“[Y/N],” Steve steps forward. “How would you like to join the Avengers?”


	3. The Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [not edited]  
> [Y/F/N] = your full name  
> [H/C] = hair color  
> [E/C] = eye color

Wow. The Avengers? Asking her, [Y/F/N], to join? Life is crazy. One minute you’re stealing from the American crime fighting organization, the next you’re being offered a job! Insane. Insanely stupid.

“Uh, no.”

“Excuse me?” Tony drops the arm that was rubbing his chin and stares at her incredulously.

“Get the damn cock out of your ear and maybe you’d hear better. I said no. And for good reason,” [Y/N] rolls her eyes. Clint snickers.

“Why the hell not?” The billionaire looks absolutely flabbergasted.

“Because unlike you, I can’t drop everything and pay other people to do it for me, okay? I’ve got people who care for me and who I care for that I fucking have to take care of.” [Y/N] steps forward and jabs her finger into the glowing disk on his chest, “I have a fucking heart,” she hisses before stepping away and walking back into her house.

Bucky stands to the side of the door, staring at the floor. [Y/N] stop, sending him a side glance. He glances up with the biggest kicked puppy look and she sighs, nodding her head for him to go in the house. The door swings shut behind them.

“Look, I understand your reasoning, doll. Really, I do. When Pearl Harbor hit the news stand, I was conflicted. I had my family to care for and I had Steve-who, at the time, had a million health issues. It took me some time, but I ended up where I was supposed to. I realized that there are more people who can use my help in the world and that ultimately, the army was the best way to protect the ones I love.” Bucky sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair.

[Y/N] sits on a creaky chair, resting her elbows on her knees. Her voice is low, strained, and rough when she says, “and what did that get you?” Her head raises to look Bucky in the eye. In the dark of her house, she can barely just make out his figure, but his striking eyes are illuminated by a ray of light peeking through the cracks between planks. She stares into the deep gray, watching the blue flecks float around. They reminded her like a black and white photo of a stormy sea crashing against his pupils. But then Bucky closes his eyes and drops his head.

“It’s safer now. Chances are, you won’t be zip lining onto a train then being blown out the side by some space-brick-powered weapon. I didn’t have anyone to watch my back; Steve was busy defending himself. I don’t blame him for that. I’d rather fall from the train and suffer what I have for the past 70 years, than for him to die trying to save my stupid ass.”

“Yeah?” [Y/N] whispers, walking over to where Bucky sits on her bed slowly. She kneels by his feet, staring up at him. “And who’s going to watch my back? You? An amnesiac machine, made to kill? You’re a fucking time bomb. I’ve seen the news. I had to do research before breaking into the most protected building in America. Someone just has to say some goddamn words and snap, you’re a hell bent killer. Ready. To. Comply.” Bucky exhales sharply, glaring down at the [H/C] haired woman coldly. She stares back, her [E/C] eyes steely. “What were the words? Longing… rusted…-”

“Stop.”

“Well, if you say so, daddy.” [Y/N] smirks, standing up. “No is my final answer so you and your subs can go play pet and master at home. This is my town, my country, and I have lived my life here, helping those who can’t help themselves. I’m not about to change for a couple of freaks in spandex.” She flings the door open, nearly taking it off the hinges and gesturing for Bucky to leave. As he steps out and turns around to get one more word in she stops him, bows, and slams the door shut, locking the deadbolt.

Bucky stares and the moldy wood door for a moment before muttering, “I guess we aren’t having dinner, then.” He turns around to see the Avengers talking to some kids and signing some toys and playing around. As Bucky approaches they stop and look up at him but he passes them by. He climbs into the passenger seat of a truck and throws his feet onto the dashboard and leans his seat back. With a sigh he tugs a baseball cap on and pulls it down to cover his eyes before fading off to sleep.

Two months pass and [Y/N] is living the dream. With her town supplied with food and water for the foreseeable future, she’s had time to do what she wants. She cleaned all of her guns, did inventory on her arsenal, and has spent more time with the people in the town. Especially the Jakob family. Luna and Madu adore her, and she adores them. They’re the sweetest girls anyone could ever meet. Roma and Ardiano are frequently sending the twins to visit [Y/N] so that they might have time to themselves to clean and organize, or spend time together and just be the same love stricken teenagers they used to be.

Alexander and Amanda Bonifaz are also often at [Y/N]’s house. Since she no longer has to find food and water, she has been collecting weapons and teaching specific people how to use them. Alexander and Amanda are her best pupils. Alexander is particularly skilled with knives, and he has been using his skill to carve toys and flutes for the children and elders. Amanda is an artist. She spends her time mastering camouflage.

Every so often, on days that she just can’t shake the feeling of being anxious, [Y/N] will travel to Triesenburg to watch the news, keeping her eyes on things related to the Avengers particularly.

[Y/N] spins the stick slowly, watching the marshmallow turn from pasty white to toasty golden. She picked some marshmallows and chocolate and graham crackers and bratwurst up from a market the other day. The town needed this. Right now all 27 of them are gathered around a large bon fire, roasting marshmallows and bratwurst and whatever strange sticks the kids find.

She pulls the marshmallow from the blaze, placing it over chocolate and securing a graham cracker on top. “Hier, Frau Björn. Es ist ein s'more genannt.”

::Here, Mrs. Björn. It’s called a s'more.::

The elderly woman takes it in her shaky hands with a smile. “So freundlich. Liebe, weißt du so viel für diese Stadt getan hast. Wir sind gesegnet, um Sie in den vergangenen Jahrzehnten haben. Ich mag alt sein, aber ich bin nicht blind nicht zu sehen, wie Sie starren aus in diesen Wald in Gedanken versunken. Ich denke vielleicht, wir beide wissen, dass Sie weitergehen sollte. Sie habe die young'ns trainiert, und wir haben genügend Nahrung und Wasser für uns mehr, Dank Herrn Stark jahrelang,” Mrs. Björn places a gnarled hand on [Y/N]’s shoulder, giving her the look that all elderly people seem to have stored for this occasion; the one that says, ‘you’re being stupid.’

::So kind. You know dear, you’ve done so much for this town. We’re blessed to have you for the past decades. I may be old, but I’m not blind enough to not see how you stare off into these woods, deep in thought. I think, maybe, we both know that you should move on. You’ve trained the young'ns, and we’ve got enough food and water to last us for many more years, thanks to Mr. Stark.::

“Ich kann nicht nur euch verlassen. Was passiert, wenn sie beschließen, dass die Bombardierung der Atomanlage war nicht genug. Was passiert, wenn sie eindringen?” [Y/N] places her poker down, turning to face the woman who has taught her so many things for the past 26 years. Her eyes are wide with fear as she glances between the other woman’s brown eyes.

::I can’t just leave you guys. What if they decide that bombing the nuclear facility wasn’t enough. What if they invade?::

Mrs. Björn smiles, “Sie werden nicht, mein lieber. Sie werden gehören in Amerika, nun aber immer willkommen hier.” She turns back to the fire and munches on the s'more. [Y/N] faces the flickering flames, dwelling on the woman’s words.

::They won’t, dear. You belong in America, now, but will always be welcome here.::

Maybe she’s right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a shitty filler towards the end :/


	4. The Travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [not edited]  
> [H/C] = hair color  
> [E/C] = eye color

The Airplane deity is cruel. So cruel. Today she decided to lash out-must be per period-and place [Y/N] on a large plane with at least 15 crying babies placing one next to her, and 10 little kids kicking people’s seats, including her’s. Not to mention that on the other side, she sits in the middle, is a heavyset man that smells like b.o. and snores like a logging mill.

Evil.

Luckily, she has headphones in her ear and is blasting some new American music she bought. She really likes Drake’s Views album. [Y/N] glances down at her lap where an empty sketchbook lays. A single line curved across it, in a semicircle shape. That’s it. The extent of her creativity. She sighs, placing the tip of her pencil under the line, and draws another, smaller semi circle. An image pops into her mind and she smiles before setting to work.

With only two hours of the flight left, [Y/N] puts the finishing touches on her last drawing before putting her pencil down. She drew all of the Avengers with what she assumed their trademark Bitch Face™ would look like. Of course, she already knows Barnes’.

She places her sketchbook back into her bag, opting to just stare at the back of the seat in front of her, her fingers fiddling with a loose string on her jacket sleeve nervously.

She doesn’t even know if the offer is valid, or, hell, if it ever was. It’s pretty outrageous, being asked to join the Avengers. Even if they’re based in America, they definitely do not obey international laws, and fight crime everywhere. Usually Hydra, from what [Y/N] has heard, though. She shivers at the thought of the organization still being alive.

The woman to her left shifts, tapping [Y/N] on the shoulder. “Excuse me?” The woman asks, and [Y/N] turns to see her holding a sleeping child in her lap, with heavy bags under the mother’s eyes.

“Yes?” [Y/N] asks, keeping her tone quiet.

“I’m sure you won’t want to, but I’ve needed to use the restroom for the past hour, and I know my boy hasn’t been the best passenger, but would you mind holding him? I gave him sleep medication so he shouldn’t wake. Please?” [Y/N] looks at the boy’s sleeping face, then back to the pleading mother before nodding once. The mother grins and carefully passes her son into the stranger’s arms before quickly unbuckling and walking to the back where a sign that reads, ‘Laboratories’ points to the bathrooms.

The [H/C] haired woman stares at the child’s face. He is so peaceful, soft, and pale; nearly opposite of the children in her town. He’s fragile, breakable, expendable, and yet, the mother handed him to a complete stranger willingly. Of course, there is a slim chance of losing the child, seeing as how they are in a metal tube in the sky. The only way to actually have the kid get kidnapped is for the kidnapper to skydive out of the plane, and that is not going to happen.

The mother returns, thanks [Y/N], and takes her son back, leaving [Y/N] to her anxious thoughts.

The seatbelt sign blinks on as the pilot announces their descent onto some New York airport runway. The cabin jerks as the wheels touch down, and everyone waits with baited breath to jump up and rush out before anyone with luggage in the overhead compartments gets out.

It is an unwinnable struggle, in the end, [Y/N] decides, as she stands in the aisle, with her backpack already slung over her shoulder because she’s fast, behind an older couple trying to get their luggage down with the help of the man in front of them. Slowly, like pigs being led to slaughter, the line moves.

Soon enough, [Y/N] is stepping out into the sunny terminal, pulling her black cap down farther, and making her way to a taxi station. She hails a yellow cab, and tells him to bring her to the best motorcycle dealer in town. He nods, and drives down the busy roads.

[Y/N] busies herself with fiddling with the loose string on her sleeve again, tugging and wrapping it around her finger. The strings connects the silky lining of her leather jacket to the leather itself. The jacket is old, it used to be her father’s, but when he… left… he gave it to her. She’s worn it ever since.

The cab pulls to a stop outside some trashy bike shop, and the driver asks for his cash. The (blonde, redhead, brunette, colored) woman hands it to him, telling him to, “Keep the change.” She climbs out, immediately heading towards an older model. Its a 1965 Harley Davidson Panhead, with a deep red tank and black leather.

Perfect.

She finds the bike dealer, an old man with a comb forward then back, and gives him the money in cash. He doesn’t ask questions, just sells it to her and gives her a sleek black helmet with a face visor. Safety first.

[Y/N] pulls her hair back and braids it(if you can) before putting the full cover helmet on. It fits perfectly and actually smells clean. Coincidence or the author being convenient? With a kick, the bike roars to life, the purr of the engine is clean and healthy and sexy. She tears out of the parking lot and down the road and out of the city, heading for her possible future job.

As soon as her front tire passes the gate, she’s being forced to stop by 15 men with assault rifles aimed at her. “Easy, easy, fellas.” She twists the key, killing the engine, and puts her hands up in surrender. “Calm down, jesus.” The men swarm her, one takes her bag, another grabs her keys, and two more grab her arms, forcing them behind her back as they pull her off of the bike and force her face first to the ground. “Shit, well what did I do wrong now, sir? …actually, sirs. Oh, look at me, so kinky I’ve got like 15 doms,” she smirks. As they manhandle her she just goes with it, allowing them to pin her on her front and handcuff her.

They stand her up and all but two escort her towards the compound, the gun’s laser sights aimed at her heart. She watches reluctantly as the two bumbling idiots drive her new baby away like morons, before she’s shoved through a doorway and down some halls. They come to a door and as it swings open, [Y/N] can see nine, disappointed, kind of pissed, faces staring at her.

Oh, shit.

(your full name), or Scourge, as the Avengers elected to name her, sits in the interrogation chair, this time without chains, and stares at the opposite wall blankly. If anyone could see into her mind, they’d see static, like a tv when there are no sources.

The door swings open, drawing her [E/C] gaze to Steve, who steps through the door. Her eyes droop and her head tilts back as a lazy smile creeps onto her face. “Here to play rough and dirty?” Steve ignores her, sitting at the chair across from her, seemingly unaffected. The telltale blush across his patriotic cheeks says otherwise. “Ooh, the silent treatment. Or maybe you’re just too lost in those fantasies of yours, Steven Grant Rogers.” Steve looks up with a quirked brow and puzzled face, pausing reading the file.

“And what fantasies are those?” His voice is full of faux confidence and moxie as he brushes the comment off, as well as the confusion of why she used his full given name.

“I’ve seen how you look at James Buchanan Barnes. Even back when you weren’t yet a popsicle. I can tell, you just want him to push you down and ride you.” [Y/N] grins as Steve splutters, choking on his spit. “Oh, yeah. You get off on the thought at night, don’t you.” She leans forward, dropping her voice to about his pitch. “Oh, Buck,” she moans, imitating Steve, “Yeah, oooooh.”

Steve stands abruptly, face beet red and jaw nearly on the floor, he nearly runs from the room. [Y/N] watches with a satisfied smirk, leaning back in her seat again, laughing quietly to herself.

It’s several minutes later when a woman walks in. “Of course. Natalia Alianovna Romanoff. You know, I will still break you.” Natasha scoffs as she sits with perfect posture as she stares the other woman down.

“I doubt it, I’m very good at my job.”

“Yes, well I love breaking people, whether with sexual jokes, mind games, or physical force… its what I’m good at.”

“Why are you here?” Natasha ignores the previous statement, jumping into the question.

[Y/N] is quiet a moment, then her posture straightens, her face turns to an indifferent, stone cold mask, and she replies, “I want to-” everyone listens closely, expecting another joke, but instead she says, “-join the Avengers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more shitty chapter then the pain ends :-)


	5. The Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [not edited]

“…you fucking kidding me? Jesus fucking Christ, [Y/N], fucking make up your damn mind!” Bucky exclaims, breaking the long silence that had ensued her request.

  
“Oh, gee golly, I’m sorry daddy!” [Y/N] hisses in reply. “I didn’t realize that the fact that I fucking care about my family was such a damn inconvenience! My sincerest apologies.”

  
“Alright, you two… Have hate sex later, okay? For now we’ve got to sign [Y/N] up for the team.” Steve steps between the two angry people, probably earning a target on his back for the hate sex comment. [Y/N] was actually hoping for hate sex, secretly.

  
“Just like that, huh? Sign her up get her a room and an all-access pass to weapons so she can murder us in our fucking sleep? Swell!” Bucky throws his arms up in exasperation before stomping off muttering.

  
“I wanna spank that ass, [Y/N] mumbles under her breath, watching Bucky’s ass practically bounce as he walks away. Lord, slay me.  
“Pardon?” Steve gawks, eyes wide as plates. Clint snickers and Natasha nods in agreement.

 

“What…?” [Y/N] asks innocently. “Okay, so… what’s the dealio? Do I gotta do some show or something? Cause I mean, if you’re into exhibitionism…: I gotta blast.”

  
“I-… No, you just have to fill out some forms and get a background check… maybe some training,” Steve stutters, blushing.

  
“Oh, alright.”

  
________________________________________

  
It’s been almost a month, and the Avengers are pretty used to having the crude [Y/N] around, long past accepting the dirty nicknames they earned. Bucky still holds anger towards her, though, and it has yet to be resolved by sex.

  
The whole team is lazing about, Tony is drinking some kind of expensive whiskey at the bar, [Y/N] is hovering over Clint’s shoulder watching a cat video with the archer and Nat, Steve is in an armchair with his sketchbook in his lap, and Sam is chasing Bucky around yelling about how Bucky needs to ‘fucking stop sending me bird gifs!’ In other words, it’s a usual Friday night at the base.

  
“Hey, bigdick,” [Y/N] hollers across the common room. Steve looks up in answer. “Whatcha drawing?” He waves her over with a nod of his head. She stands and saunters over with her usual sexy walk.

  
“It’s you,” Steve shows her the piece of paper with a blush, “and Buck.” [Y/N] smiles at the picture slightly. It shows Bucky in his sweats, sitting on a couch by the television and slumped against the back, while she’s laying on her side, head resting on his lap with his fingers tangled in her hair. She remembers this; it was one of the times the two of them really, truly got along.

  
“It’s really great, Stevie,” [Y/N] mumbles, sending Steve a smile.

  
“I know you like him, [Y/N].” She looks at his face, settling to sit on the armrest and wrap an arm around his broad shoulder. “He likes you too,” Steve adds after a moment. He chuckles, “I’m pretty sure he’s plotting my death right now.” He nods his head towards where Sam and Bucky settled on a couch. [Y/N] glances over to see Bucky glaring in their direction. “Talk to him.”

  
“Yeah… maybe I will, blondecock,” [Y/N] says, standing up and sauntering off to the bar for a drink. She’s pouring herself a neat whiskey when Bucky leans on the counter in front of her. She looks up with a smirk, “What’s up, daddy?”

  
Bucky ignores her comment, “You and Steve, huh?” His eyes glint with jealousy, lust, and something else.  
“Nah, I’d never treat you that way, master.”

  
“Be serious, for a minute, [Y/N].” Bucky’s voice is soft and serious, shocking [Y/N]. She looks up at him, taking a deep breath.

  
“No, James. I’m interested in someone else, unfortunately he seems to hate me for some silly words I said when I felt petty and hurt.” [Y/N] pushes her glass away, opting to drink straight from the bottle. “Even though I’m sorry.” Her voice is croaky, despite her will not to actually show emotion.

  
“I’m sure he forgives you,” Bucky says, grabbing the bottle from her. “And I bet he wants to know if you would like to go to his room?” He asks, holding a hand out.

  
“Well, you bet your firm ass I do,” [Y/N] grins, grabbing Bucky’s real hand and allowing him to pull her to the elevator.  
The Avengers watch them go, placing bets among themselves and cracking jokes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes... this series get shittier with time :)


End file.
